


A Duck Named Swingline

by catatonic1242



Series: The Whole Duck [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: BDSM, Blow Jobs, Bodily Fluids, Bottom Dean, Cock Rings, Comeplay, Explicit Sexual Content, Graphic Description, Heavy BDSM, Light Bondage, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Masochism, Mild Blood, Oral Sex, Pain, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn, Slash, Stapling, Supernatural Kink Bingo 2018, Top Castiel, Top Castiel/Bottom Dean Winchester
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-17
Updated: 2018-05-17
Packaged: 2019-05-08 03:40:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,200
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14685690
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/catatonic1242/pseuds/catatonic1242
Summary: Dean & Cas & Stapling:  A Love Story(ish)





	A Duck Named Swingline

**Author's Note:**

> Welp, it figures that my first fic in the Supernatural fandom would be about stapling, of all things. I have [Supernatural Kink Bingo](http://spnkinkbingo.tumblr.com) to thank and only myself to blame. This will be the first in a series of fics about the BDSM side of Destiel, mostly written to fill those bingo squares.
> 
> Title of the series comes from the following:
> 
>  _“Kinky sex involves the use of duck feathers. Perverted sex involves the whole duck.”_ \- Lewis Grizzard
> 
> I owe a huge debt of gratitude to those folks who describe their experiences with stapling on the internet. I used their anecdotes and ideas shamelessly.
> 
> And, of course, apologies to Swingline for this chapter. I’m so epically sorry. Folks, DO NOT use a Swingline for these activities - medical staplers ONLY. 
> 
> Be safe, get consent, have a safeword and practice aftercare.
> 
> Find me on [tumblr.](http://catatonic1242.tumblr.com)

“You are so pretty like this,” Cas says.

Dean knows he sincerely means it, but the word ‘pretty’ sends an instant flush to Dean’s cheeks. It’s odd, considering his current position, that one word can make him blush, but that one, out of Cas’ mouth, does.

When Dean doesn’t respond to the compliment, Cas peers down at him from where he stands beside the bed. “What do we say, Dean?” Cas raises his eyebrows and nods expectantly at Dean.

“Thank you,” Dean answers promptly.

Cas grins. “You’re welcome. Now, before we begin, are you comfortable?”

Dean takes an inventory: He’s on his own bed, naked. His arms and legs are secured outward, his body forming an ‘X.’ He is tethered by velcro straps attached to a restraint under his mattress. His cock, flushed dark and achingly hard, is secured at the base, behind his balls, by a shiny silver ring that is slathered in lube. Both of his legs are hairless above the knee, something Cas had reminded him to do in the shower that morning. And, of course, Cas himself is standing on the floor next to the bed, shirtless but still wearing his navy suit trousers. 

Dean flexes each hand separately, then pulls on the restraints with his limbs. There is no slack, only resistance when he tugs, but he’s not stretched to the point of discomfort. At least, not physically. He nods at Cas.

“I need to hear you say it, Dean,” Cas reminds him gently.

Dean swallows and looks into Cas’ eyes. “I’m comfortable. I’m good.” His cock throbs at the look Cas gives him in return.

Cas lowers his chin. “Then let’s begin.” He leans over to pull open the drawer of the nightstand, and Dean tries to lift his head enough to see inside. Cas pulls out a thick roll of silver duct tape, then closes the drawer quickly. “Tsk, tsk, no peeking,” he chides.

Slowly, Cas unwinds a foot-long portion of tape from the roll, ripping it off with his teeth. He puts the roll down on the bed next to Dean before affixing one end of the tape just above Dean’s knee. Cas slides a hand up Dean’s thigh, securing the tape down until it stops just an inch or two below his groin. Dean grunts and thrusts up toward Cas’ touch, but his hand doesn’t linger. Dean whimpers, a small frustrated noise at the back of his throat.

Cas picks up the roll of tape and circles to the other side of the bed, repeating the motion. Through the fog of his arousal, Dean is grateful to Cas for the warning about leg hair removal that morning.

Cas swipes one finger quickly through the bead of precome that has formed on the head of Dean’s cock. The touch isn’t nearly long enough, but Dean moans, and Cas takes the opportunity to paint Dean’s open mouth with the fluid. Dean flicks his tongue out and licks his lips, groaning again at the taste of himself. Cas eases one finger into his mouth, and Dean closes his lips around it, sucking it clean. 

When he’s done with the finger, Cas withdraws and moves back around the bed to open the nightstand drawer again. Once again, Dean cranes his neck to look. 

“Dean,” Cas says, his tone low and serious. “Don’t make me warn you again,” he says. Dean quickly turns his head back to the center, averting his eyes both from the drawer and from Cas.

As a result, at first he doesn’t see the long black strip of material that Cas takes into one hand or the white surgical staple gun he holds in his other. As soon as Cas moves down toward Dean’s thigh, though, Dean notices and his eyes widen. The material is thin like a shoelace, but made of leather. Cas places it in the middle of the strip of tape, running in the same direction. It is longer than the duct tape on each end.

“Dean,” Cas says, his voice a low rumble. It makes Dean’s cock twitch against the ring that confines it, and he grunts in reply.

Cas continues. “I expect this will be uncomfortable.” Coming from just about anyone else, the obviousness of that statement would make it laughable, but the look in Cas’ eyes keeps Dean grounded. He nods his head, and Cas nods back at him.

The first staple stings like a sharp, small bite when it lands just a few inches above his knee. It goes through the tape and into his flesh, pinning the black leather cord into place. Dean yelps and reflexively tries to pull his leg away, but the restraints keep him pinned. Cas waits, thirty interminable seconds, maybe a minute, staring at Dean as he squirms and pulls until he gradually calms. And then, as if Cas can sense when the sting fades into an aching throb in Dean’s thigh, Cas moves the stapler up and presses it down again. He knows the exact pressure to use to seat the staple perfectly into Dean’s leg. This time, Dean manages not to yelp. Instead, he clenches his jaw, the muscle under his ear flaring as the sting again becomes a throb. 

Cas smiles almost sweetly at Dean and reaches up to run a warm palm down his flank. Dean shifts into the touch as much as possible, embarrassingly hungry for it. “You’re doing so well,” Cas compliments. 

“Thank you,” Dean answers quickly. 

Cas nods, and when he moves his hand away from Dean’s side, suddenly Dean’s skin feels cold and the throbbing in his leg demands his focus. Cas presses the stapler down into Dean’s thigh again, another few inches above the previous puncture, and Dean bites down on his lip and breathes in hard through his nose. He barely has time for the sting to ebb before Cas moves the stapler up and presses down again, then once more, until there are five staples in a neat row starting above his knee and going to the middle of his thigh. 

Pausing again, Cas takes two short steps to close the distance between himself and Dean and leans down for a filthy kiss. Dean reciprocates, the throbbing in his cock competing with the throbbing in his leg, as Cas moves his empty hand up to tweak one of Dean’s nipples. Dean exhales against Cas’ mouth, and Cas nips at his lower lip, biting and pulling. When he straightens back up, Dean’s lip is shiny and swollen. 

“So, so pretty,” Cas murmurs, running his fingers through Dean’s sweat-damp hair. Dean closes his eyes as the words rush through him, feeling Cas’ voice like the ache in his cock and leg.

Before Dean can open his eyes again, Cas has pushed another staple into his thigh, creeping ever closer to his cock. When it sinks into his skin, Dean makes a noise that is half cry, half moan, and his eyes start to water from the sting. He thrusts up, aching for friction, anything that will relieve his cock and distract him from the throbbing in his leg, but Cas pushes him down with a gentle hand on Dean’s hip bone. 

When Dean settles back down, Cas inches the stapler up and, in rapid succession, drives the seventh and eighth staples into his thigh. Dean twitches, thinks about crying out but bites his own tongue instead. Just as he did before, right when the biting pain eases into a throb, Cas sends another staple into Dean’s leg. His fingers linger very close to Dean’s pulsing cock, and Dean is reduced to pleading.

“Please, Cas, please,” he nearly whispers, his voice thick.

“‘Please’ what, Dean?” Cas answers.

“Please touch me,” Dean begs. “Please, I need… I can’t…”

Cas cuts him off. “Yes, you can,” he says, narrowing his eyes at Dean pointedly. Dean looks away for just a moment. “Dean,” Cas says, managing to make his name into both a warning and a question.

Dean only hesitates for a second. “Yes, I can,” he says, looking back at Cas, who smiles warmly and nods.

“One last one on this side,” he says, and the final staple punches through his skin just a few inches away from his weeping cock.

Cas places the stapler on the nightstand and takes the roll of duct tape back out of the drawer. He rips off another foot-long portion and lines it up with the bottom of the strip that has been stapled to Dean’s leg. Cas is not too gentle as he presses the tape down on top of the staples, cord and first piece of tape. Dean hisses through his teeth as Cas’ fingers travel up his thigh, securing everything in place. He thrusts up again, but is met by nothing but air. 

When he’s satisfied with Dean’s right leg, Cas opens the drawer again and pulls out another cord. He walks to the other side of the bed and lines the cord up. Dean squeezes his eyes shut, anticipating the first fresh sting on his leg, but Cas reaches up and laces his fingers through Dean’s instead.

“Dean,” he insists gently. “Open your eyes. I want to watch you.”

Dean obeys, opening his eyes to look up at Cas, then down to where the stapler hovers above his knee. 

Cas nods. “Good,” he praises, then presses down as Dean watches. It’s too quick for him to see the staple sink in, but the sting of the pain is bright. Somehow, he manages not to flinch. Cas squeezes his hand, then lets go. “Very good,” Cas says.

“Thank you,” Dean answers. His right leg is throbbing from the line of staples, and there is a small pool of precome just below the crease where his thigh meets his torso. He pulls against his leg restraints, testing again, but they hold him firmly in place. 

Just as he is turning his attention back to Cas, a second and third staple join the first in rapid succession. Dean cries out, and Cas gently shushes him in response.

Cas runs one finger through the precome on Dean’s leg, then moves to stand at the head of the bed. Dean opens his mouth, eager, wanting desperately for anything, any touch, anything that will fill him even a little. A small, pitiful whimper escapes his mouth when, instead of dipping his finger into Dean’s mouth, Cas takes it into his own. He holds Dean’s gaze as he sucks his own finger, working it in and out of his mouth while Dean groans. When it’s clean, he reaches down and takes Dean’s face in his hands, kissing him sweetly. 

Dean can taste himself on Cas’ tongue, and he wants more, all of it, anything and everything that he can get, that Cas will give him. But too quickly, Cas pulls away, his eyes dark. 

“I love how you taste,” Cas says. 

“Thank you,” Dean answers, swallowing. His whole body is thrumming, pain and pleasure and the idea of being worshipped in this way by Cas combining into something almost overwhelming. 

But Cas doesn’t linger for long, moving back down to Dean’s leg. The next staple bites into his thigh and everything is sensation - both legs, his cock, the salty taste of himself on his own tongue. Dean whines and tries to buck his hips upward, but Cas presses him down with one hand while driving the fifth staple in with the other. 

As the pain dulls, Cas studies Dean, watching his face. Dean tries to control himself, struggles to tamp down the impulse to beg again, nearly helpless against it. Instead, he bites down on the insides of his cheeks, hard enough that he tastes the sharp tang of his own blood as it washes over his tongue.

Cas tilts his head just so, that slight angle from which he has been watching Dean for years. Dean pokes his tongue out to lick his dry lips and blinks slowly at Cas. He nods, and the sixth and seventh staples pierce his thigh.

This time, Dean can’t help it. Everything is too much, and he starts to babble.

“Please, Cas, please, I need you, please, god, it’s too much, please, please…” his words dissolve into incoherent whining noises, and Dean turns his head away from Cas and closes his eyes, keening.

Cas plants a firm palm in the middle of Dean’s chest and is silent. He lets Dean stammer and plead and babble until he’s wordless, thrusting his ringed cock up into the air. When Dean has finally backed away from the edge, Cas strokes down his side, just as he had before. His hand is warm, gentle and reassuring, and Dean calms.

When it’s clear that Dean can continue, Cas picks the stapler up again and presses down. The eighth staple burns, but only faintly, before dulling down into the same aching throb that is coursing through the rest of Dean’s body. Cas rests a hand on Dean’s knee, then moves up, edging close-too-close-not-close-enough to Dean’s cock before pressing down. Dean barely manages to catch his breath before the tenth and final staple is in and Cas is running fingers sweetly through Dean’s hair. 

“Good, good, you’re so good,” Cas intones adoringly, his thumb sliding out to wipe away a tear Dean hadn’t noticed fall toward his ear. Dean leans his head into the touch, but it’s gone again too soon. 

Cas retrieves the duct tape and tears off a final strip. He secures it with firm fingers, pressing down on either side of the row of cord and staples all the way up Dean’s leg. 

Dean closes his eyes. Half of him is relieved that the stapling is done while the other half is anticipating what’s to come. He hears Cas move back to his original position next to Dean’s right leg. Cas slides a rough palm up Dean’s leg, starting at the tip of his toes and stopping just over his knee. His hand lingers there and he gives Dean one firm, reassuring squeeze. Dean opens his eyes to find Cas staring intently at him.

“You’ve done very well so far,” Cas says, his lips curving into a gentle smile. “I’m very proud of you.”

For some embarrassing reason that Dean doesn’t care to explore, he feels his own chest swell with pride. When he answers, his voice comes out shaky. “Thank you.”

With that, Cas moves his hand to wrap around the cord secured to Dean’s leg. He gives it a small, almost gentle tug. Dean’s skin moves with the cord and the staples, and the pain flickers back to life. A tiny sob escapes Dean’s lips before he can stop himself. Cas pulls again, harder this time, and Dean struggles against his restraints. The pain is pulsating, white behind his eyes, and each tug of the staples against his skin makes his cock jump.

Cas moves his hand from the cord to the bottom layer of tape and peels up just a small corner from his thigh - enough to get a good grip between his thumb and index finger. Dean tenses in anticipation, but it’s not enough. When Cas rips the tape up, Dean is unprepared for the sensation of the staples biting against his skin and releasing with sharp pops. Cas keeps pulling, and each of the ten staples releases from his leg until the whole strip is free. 

It feels almost as if he is being unzipped, as if his skin and something deeper, inside the core of him, is coming apart. He screams. Dean sees stars, flashing lights against his eyelids. He can’t hear anything other than a faint ringing in his ears - the rest of the world has gone silent, even his own breathing, his own heartbeat. 

Then, suddenly, it comes crashing down all at once - the pain in his leg centers him, tethers him to his own body just before he floats away. His breath returns, shallow and quick, and he opens his eyes wide.

“Fuck… Cas…” is all he can stutter. “Fuck.”

Cas moves to Dean’s left leg and prods with his index finger at the staple closest to Dean’s cock. Dean twitches and grunts as the metal stabs a little deeper into his thigh. Cas runs his finger down the center of the tape, pressing down on each staple in turn, and the noise that Dean makes is unrecognizable. It is want and lust and pain and pleasure rendered inarticulate.

When he’s done prodding the staples through the tape, Cas again loosens a corner by Dean’s knee. Knowing what’s coming does nothing to prepare Dean. As Cas pulls the tape up, each staple resisting before giving away, Dean clenches every muscle in his body. He curls his toes, clenches his ass, grinds his teeth together, squeezes his eyes shut. But the sensation of ripping, of being torn apart, is too strong, and he cries out again just as the last staple is removed.

He is breathless, wanting. Dean is floating above his own body, seeing himself splayed out before Cas, tiny beads of blood lined up perfectly on both thighs. His cock is still unbelievably hard, confined in the metal ring. Every part of Dean aches in every possible way.

He comes crashing down into his own body when Cas lowers himself between Dean’s knees and, without pretext, wraps his lips around Dean’s cock. Words, even coherent thoughts, totally escape him as Cas hollows his cheeks and sucks Dean down until he can practically swallow around Dean’s cock.

Dean longs to buck his hips, to push his cock further into Cas’ mouth. He wants to fuck Cas’ mouth, needs the friction and freedom to move. But his restraints don’t allow him more than a few frustrating inches of movement, and every time he thrusts, Cas pulls back. Finally, Dean gives up. He lets the sensation of Cas’ warm, wet tongue envelop him.

When he settles, Cas rewards Dean by increasing his pace. Cas has his tongue over his bottom teeth and every time he reaches the tip of Dean’s cock, he swirls around it before lowering himself back down. He establishes a fast rhythm, bringing Dean closer and closer to orgasm every time he sinks down and pulls back up.

After only a few minutes, Dean is desperately clenching and unclenching his fists, wishing there was something within reach that he could grab onto. He feels like he’s flying completely untethered.

“Cas, Cas,” Dean chants, his voice the only warning that Cas receives or needs before Dean comes in his mouth. Cas takes as much as he can into his mouth without swallowing, though some drips sticky down his chin.

Wordlessly, Cas moves up the bed, mindful of Dean’s thighs, until he settles with his face just a few inches over Dean’s. Knowingly, Dean opens his mouth. He stares Cas right in the eye as Cas parts his lips to release Dean’s come into his waiting mouth.

Dean swallows, once, twice, tasting his own come mixed with the flavor of Cas’ mouth. When it’s gone and he can finally speak again, Dean sighs, content and sated, and says, “Thank you.”


End file.
